


Temptation Greets You Like A Naughty Friend.

by a_cruel_cruel_girl



Category: Arctic Monkeys, Last Shadow Puppets
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 11:06:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12034605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_cruel_cruel_girl/pseuds/a_cruel_cruel_girl
Summary: Lucy is a musician who plays her ukulele in cafe's all over the place. After a normal performance a stranger grabs her attention by asking when he could see her next, Isn't it to her surprise when they sit down for coffee and she realises its Alex Turner.Wooing ensues.//Will Be Adding More//





	Temptation Greets You Like A Naughty Friend.

The wooden walls of the bar piled high. Tall columns of warm toned cherry wood and the scent of coffee filled my nostrils. The loud clinking of teaspoons on cups and coffee beans grinding, fills up the large room as the sounds echo and transfigure into my ears. I look around the coffee shop quickly, glancing around not being able to see a couple tables blocked off by the many different columns holding the ceiling high with low strung lights. My glasses hung low on my nose, having them for a long time meant they became deformed and started to lower themselves along the bridge of my nose as time went on. My bleached hair pulled into a bun with small threads of hair falling down, framing my face. My lips red from gnawing on them, I’m incredibly nervous. This is the first time I’d be performing at this cafe. It was a new cafe that had opened in town and I was only nervous because some cafes were better than others for my performance. 

I found that going to the same couple repeatedly built a bond and even with the different filter of people who constantly flowed through the cafe, it always seemed nicer and well achieved if the was a lovely bond. So starting at a new cafe was a worry, one I’d come to regret, I hadn’t slept last night. Instead smoking and practising all my songs but not deciding on a setlist. That probably didn’t help the unplanned list haunting me, however I found picking the songs on the day in the venue made for a more homey vibe. 

My hands were clammy which isn’t great for any performance, the nervousness is sure to wreck my show so I told the manager I was going to pop to the loo. As I walked behind the slightly elevated wooden floor of the stage, I slinked into the toilet the door banging my heel on the way in. Way to feel wanted. I rubbed my head, trying to force out the negative emotion, trying to channel the blandness abis. One deep breath in and a hand of water across my burning skin. I began to smudge in the concealer across my slightly blotched skin, hoping that meddling would fix the off beat feeling I had that sunk across my lungs and stomach however, if anything meddling with my make up made it worse which made me give a deadbeat look to myself in the mirror. A harsh knock on the lilac door covered in half peeled off stickers, knocked me out my head and a hard voice called “You ready?” I presume it was the manager letting me know the stage was set up.

Again a deep breath in cascaded across my lungs and a shake of my head occurred before I left the white light of the toilet . “Ready” I whisper to myself as the crawling feeling shuddered up my spine and made me feel anxiously sick. I grabbed my ukulele of the corner of the stage. The teal binding that was tide under the bridge of the uke and the neck held a makeshift strap. The cord being one that had tightly wrapped the gift all those years ago. The black instrument being shiny and sleek with a tattoo on its back. A snake moving forwards upwards and further towards the neck. 

I had originally bought the cheap ukulele for myself from argos but my boyfriend at the time had graciously said he would pay for it and give it a little style as he was an artist. And just as he had said he took the uke and he fashioned a snake along its back with the word, Lionheart painted along its side. I’d loved it ever since and although I know longer dated the boy the ukulele was something very special to me, helping trace my so called career and hobby. I sat on the high end stool, my black faux leather shorts pressing into the pink fabric that mounted the top the stool as a cushion. I bought the black instrument upwards swinging the makeshift strap around my torso. The breaking material pressing harsh lines into my shirt, creasing the black material. My glasses popped on my head, the circular lenses timidly balancing in the light of the cafe. My ukulele now trapsed my thigh and my hands held it tightly to my chest. This was the time to make a good impression.

My first strum of the strings didn’t raise much awareness but a few heads bobbed up at the soft noise. I coughed into the microphone lightly and began to sing the first line of the song. The chords blurred together and the rhythm of me tapping my foot against my stool eventually caused the atmosphere of the cafe to somber. Very little people spoke as I sung out into the room.

“And in the sea that's painted black  
Creatures lurk below the deck  
But you're a king and I'm a lionheart  
A lionheart”

Traditionally I opened with this song. “King and Lionheart” by Of Monsters and Men. Although traditionally makes it sound like I’m an actual musician which  
I’m really not but hopefully I’ll get there eventually. As I continue to let the music console me, I gather at the strings and pluck carefully letting my voice ring out across the cafe, after LIonheart I had a brief assumption that I would play a cover of Lose It by Oh Wonder however last second I switched my mind over and decided to play an old Arctic Monkeys song. The was no correlation between me playing this and the 3 dark figures in the corner of the room. For I had not noticed the slightly unusual looking men because of the table that had been placed behind the beams that held the structure up. I also hadn’t got my glasses on which removed half of my vision. 

“I don't ever want to hate you,  
So don't show me your bed,  
The only roads are cul-de-sacs,  
The first thing that she said.

Temptation, greets you like your naughty mate,  
The one that used to get you in bother,  
But one you could never bring yourself to hate.”

The words are slowed right down with a very simple ukulele strum in the background, it sounds almost completely different to how the band usually perform it, but that tends to be how I like performing songs, completely and utterly changing them. It transforms such a ruckus of a song that sounds dirty to a soft sad song that's just begging for attention. A flutter of happiness erupts inside my stomach, a feeling of someone stroking my heart when I hear a singular clap that grows into an applause. I scoff and duck my head smiling to myself, happy for the recognition of a beautiful performance. I perform a couple of other songs but as soon as i let my hand wrap the last note, my heart breaks. It has definitely been my best performance to date. Having multiple rounds of applause and quite a lot of people dropping coins and even a couple notes into the ukulele case that lay in front of the stage. I was overjoyed but at the same time a sinking feeling filled my guts as the comedown built fast after my adrenaline kick. I jumped from the pink cushioned stall and grabbed the denim jacket that sat next to my feet. 

Wrapping myself up quickly I gathered the money from the case, letting the coins feel heavy in my palm as I refused to count it, wanting to wait til i got home. I shoved it all in my pockets, before placing my black ukulele back into the snugly case. Then i shut the case and stood tall, pulling my glasses back down to the bridge of my nose. Finally seeing the cafe back in HD vision. I grabbed my worn down mustard umbrella that hung heavily in my jean jacket pocket, i let it rest in my palm as I opened the cafe door then quickly opened it before letting one foot out into the pouring rain of the UK. I’d taken a couple steps but a hand grabbed my shoulder and called at me. 

I turned around confused at the lack of personal space. I was met with a familiar face but i wasn’t able to place a name, “When will you be here next?” A hopeful voice finally asked. I looked down at my wrist as if checking the time before realizing what I was doing wa stupid. I shook my head at my idiocy then replied “Probably next Tuesday, around 11ish.” He simply nodded back and then let his hand fall to his side before walking away. Before he re-entered the cafe i'd just left he shouted back ”I’ll see you then” then winked before walking back into the warmth. I mean he was hot so I didn’t exactly hate it. I was hoping to meet him again really, so when it was Tuesday and I couldn’t see him in the crowd, I was slightly sad. Although I guess I wasn’t expecting much. It did seem like something out of a movie. I again performed, the was slightly less clapping but I think I earned more than I had last week, so I couldn’t be mad. I strummed the last chord while singing out the last line “ I call it love” from Painting Roses by Dresses, I started packing up, grabbing my jacket again and pulling my glasses down. When I blinked rapidly letting my eyes adjust a figure appeared in front of me. 

A hand was suddenly in front of me, a voice accompanied it “Hi I’m Alex”. My eyes scrunched back up in irritation, they were hurting me badly and I could barely keep them open. “Sorry, I’m Lucy.” I let my hand blindly try to find Alex’s hand, I accidentally hold his wrist that’s branded with a leather jacket and I nervously apologize. He lets a chuckle fall from his lips before asking me if I’m okay. My eyes are still clenched shut, the darkness surrounds me but his voice sounds so soothing, “I just need to go to the loo, my eyes.” I say while waving my hands in front of my face, imitating irritation with my actions. “Ah, okay, I’ll lead you?” He says his statement as a question, I nod, I presume I nodded at him but I have no idea if i’m still facing him. I feel fingers rest on my shoulder as the other holds my hands. His fingers have callouses but are surprisingly soft as they drag over my skin. After a couple of seconds, he coughs awkwardly. “There you go?” Again saying his statement as a question in his un-assuring tone. I chuckle and thank him before walking into the loo. 

The bathroom seems to be becoming quite familiar to me, I again rest against the side and try to open my eyes again. Luckily I’m able to half open them this time. I let my pupils fall downwards, seeing the sink i turn the tap and let the water fall over my fingers. I begin to wrestle with my eyes hoping to fix them. Eventually I get to a point where they aren't completely unbearable. 

I walk out of the bathroom, letting my shoulders drop in confidence trying to give of a convincing facade of assertiveness. My eyes scan across the room, trying to locate all my things. They lie on their backs on the stage and next to them is a tall attractive man that has that familiar face. He is leaning against the counter, looking suave as two cups of coffee sit next to his leather clad arm. I walk over, my shoes creating quite the ruckus that makes his eyes alleviate to me. He smirks as he stands up fully, he looks down at me before passing one of the cups to me. “Oh you didn’t-” I begin but he cuts me off telling me he wanted too. 

He asks me to sit down at one of the tables with him, I take him off on his offer, because he did buy me coffee and he is attractive. I grab all my stuff of the stage and follow him across the cafe. He sits at the table behind the beam, “is this where you were hiding?” He lets of a hurdle of laughter as he smiles across from me, “Yea I was hiding.” He seems to find something funny that I’m not sure of so I just smile along with him and let him sober up. “How’re you?” He asks me, I tell him my eyes are still a bit troubling but for the most part i’m okay, “If I look like I’m having a seizure at any part of this, it’s just my eyes fucking with me, okay?” I laugh with him, his pink lips spread into a wide smile. 

He seems like a right cutie and I love how much he keeps smiling. “So what do you do?” I ask him, he looks at me before winking and telling me he's a musician, It clicks then. I’m sure my face must've dropped in shock, “Oh shit.” I say letting the I roll. “You’re Alex Turner” I feel like such an idiot, my eyes raise up to his, he looks a little bit of embarrassed but tries to cover it with a smirk. He looks down and lets his eyes raise up quickly back to mine. With locked eyes he speaks slowly “Yeah, you’re a really good musician yourself, I liked your cover” 

It’s then that I remember that I had done a cover of one of their songs, “..Very different” He continues, he seems like he actually enjoyed it though and not like he’s just pretending. “Thanks” I tell him, a smile beginning to cover my face as I try and hold it down by biting my lip. His eyes drop over my lips before popping back up to my eyes and asking “what other covers do you tend to do?” “Oh, I don’t even know, I’m sort of always all over the place.” He tells me in a soft voice that he’d “love to see more” in a flirty voice, a tone of fear comes across my spine, you always have to be careful in these situations, but I do really like him so far so I tell him in an equally flirty voice, “Guess you’ll have to keep coming here for when I play then.” This makes him smile wide as he takes a sip from his coffee.  
-

The next time I see Alex, he stands lurking at the back of the shop where I can see him, he has sunglasses on and is sipping a coffee again. By the time I’ve finished my set, he is stood behind the stage waiting for me with two cups full of coffee. This time as I pull on my jacket and glasses he asks me if I “wanna get out of here?” I nod at him, letting a smile transform my originally nervous face. Alex takes me to an art gallery. 

The walls are mainly white inside the gallery. That always tends to make me laugh, for all the art it exhibits its a morbidly plain place for the most part. I turn to Alex “Don’t you think the walls of a gallery showcase nothing but inadequacy.” When I said this I raised my hands and took a camera of the bland wall, Alex stood in front of me taking up at least half of the lens. I captured a look that I could not decipher, but I was hoping it was positive and that I didn’t just sound like a total brat. “I mean I know it makes the other art stand out, but…” I let myself trail off and Alex’s mouth raises lopsided giving me a mix of a smirk and a smile. A cocky smile. 

I decided after the third exhibit that Alex was indeed something I’d love to follow up, it was a moment where I felt completely content. Where you can feel how lovingly warm your blood feels against the walls of your skin. The way you feel that your jumper has fallen perfectly and that you feel picture perfect. But not because you want to look nice, not because of narcissism. I mean just because of how happy you are, your body makes you feel completely content. When I looked at Alex across from me, I saw his eyes darting along the walls, scanning for imagery, I could sense him and I hoped that he sensed me too. He did, he breaks eye contact with the exhibition and looks at me, giving me a hearty smile. 

-

Later when we get out of the gallery, we decide to have a little walk in the park. By this time Alex is holding my ukulele case as I’d grown uncomfortable carrying it. We are slowly walking past greenery on a little off path that I usually walk, I gasp in excitement, remembering something, my eyes instantly greeting Alex’s in warm heat, I tell him to stay still and run off. When I get back Alex is sat on a bench grasping my ukulele, looking ever so awkward. He is sat on the dark wood letting his eyes wander across the plants, twitching at any noise that hits his ears. I take the chance to grab my camera and snap the photo of him looking adorably uncomfortable. I then walk up to him, letting our eyes graze contact before smiling at him. I hand him an ice cream and say “Since you’ve brought me coffee twice now” 

It’s safe to say we are both grinning like absolute fools on that little bench. I’m shivering, England's weather tittering my skin. Alex says in his sheffield accent “I hate to be so forward but…” and then puts his arm over my denim jacket clad shoulders, pulling me close. Now this is only our first “date” so maybe it’s a little hasty for such a physical statement but I can go about it and a lot of people kiss on their first dates so it isn’t really that weird. I’m definitely over thinking it. Alex can tell I’m overthinking it, see’s the gears turning fast, steam basically coming out my ears, so he soothes me. 

“Can I ask you out to dinner?” It’s safe to say I blushed but the answer was clear.


End file.
